


Teenage Satellites

by syntheticpoetry



Series: And the World Spins Madly On Verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Assault, Flashback accompanying scene, Hate Crime, I've named Blaine's unknown friend Skylar, Profanity, Sadie Hawkins Dance, Some Fluff, Violence, but angsty ending, but this does turn violent at the end, the scene that clearly fucked up Blaine, there's some friendship fluff in the beginning, this accompanies Blaine's story to Kurt in And the World Spins Madly on about the dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticpoetry/pseuds/syntheticpoetry
Summary: This is a flashback sequence of Blaine's night at the Sadie Hawkins dance and the assault that occurs after the dance.Part of my And the World Spins Madly On universe.  You do not need to have read my other fic to understand this, it is a standalone flashback sequence on its own.
Series: And the World Spins Madly On Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855225
Kudos: 10





	Teenage Satellites

**Author's Note:**

> I've mentioned Blaine's friend (who I have named Skylar) in And the World Spins Madly On in a conversation he has with Kurt about the assault and this is the longer version of events that occurred that night starting with some good old fashioned friendship fluff and ending in a pretty violent attack. You do not need to have read my other fic to understand this, it is a standalone flashback sequence on its own. But if you have a penchant for Blangst and a slow build hurt/comfort fic of Kurt and Blaine navigating recovery and rediscovering romance, please check it out!
> 
> Trigger warning: violence involving homophobic slurs and description of assault using a tire iron
> 
> You can read And the World Spins Madly On [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/807953/chapters/1524879)

“You don’t think it looks tacky?” Blaine adjusted the white rose boutonniere on his date’s lapel. “I didn’t want something that would stand out so much, but I saw it and fell in love with it and—”

“It’s fine, stop fidgeting with it!” Skylar laughed and slapped at Blaine’s hand blithely. “You’re going to laugh when you see the one I’ve gotten for you…” Blaine raised an eyebrow, took a step back from him, and watched as Skylar strode over to the fridge.

“Oh, it’s the same one,” Blaine grinned and shook his head in disbelief upon seeing the clear plastic container housing the delicate perennial. “Of course, I should have guessed as much.”

“Come here so I can fix it on,” Skylar motioned him over and set the container on the counter. Blaine traipsed the short distance between them and closed the gap. Though the general atmosphere of the evening was meant to be romantic for most couples, these two had no reservations about spending their time together as two very good friends. The idea to go as a pair had been Blaine’s. It took a little convincing on Skylar’s part, but he usually (always) eventually caved in to Blaine’s schemes and requests— their friendship had blossomed so intensely over the course of a few short months that they assumed the role of each other’s “best friend.” Really, they were each other’s only friend at all.

“Dashing as ever,” Skylar smiled as he fastened the boutonniere to Blaine’s lapel with steady hands. Blaine looked down at those perfectly stilled hands— always in control, always so precise— and brushed his thumb over a small scratch. “Jasmine was pretty playful this morning,” Skylar laughed in response to the gesture.

Blaine shook his head and smiled, mostly to himself, before calling out to Skylar’s feline companion, “Jasmine? Come here and give us a kiss goodbye, honey!”

Jasmine, perched atop the kitchen windowsill, poked her head between two panels of off-white venetian blinds upon hearing her name. She was an odd cat, in the sense that she chirped and trilled more like a bird rather than meowed, and Blaine adored her that much more for it. On cue, she chirped and kicked off of the window, springing through the blinds, and sent them clattering against the glass loudly. Blaine guffawed while Skylar scolded her, but she paid no mind to her owner and chose to prance over to Blaine’s leg and rub herself against it.

“She’s going to get fur all over you!” Skylar screeched in alarm.

“Oh, she just wants a little attention,” Blaine spoke as though he was addressing a toddler, “Isn’t that right, baby girl?” He crouched down and scooped her up in his arms; to his left, Skylar let out a dramatic sigh.

“You’re incorrigible,” Skylar shook his head, but Blaine noticed the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. Jasmine chirped loudly in his arms and he returned his attention back to her, rubbing her belly until her purring was the only sound to fill the room. Blaine glimpsed at the clock on Skylar’s stove before setting Jasmine on the counter and brushing fur off of his jacket.

“Is your dad still driving—” he coughed and spit stray cat hair out of his mouth, sending Skylar into a fit of hysterics.

“I warned you!” he doubled over, clutching his stomach as if he just witnessed the single funniest sight in all his life.

Blaine rolled his eyes in response and spit away more cat hair that had plastered itself to his lips. After a few moments of regaining his composure, Skylar carelessly wiped away a few tears and spoke in a voice that clearly meant he was still trying to force his laughter down, “He should be, let me go ask him.”

Blaine nodded and Skylar disappeared into the living room. He could hear their muffled conversation, but wasn’t able to make out any actual words that hinted towards what type of answer Skylar’s father was providing. Jasmine rubbed up against Blaine’s leg again, trilling her affections and demanding to be picked up again. “Shhh, not now, baby girl. When we get back—Skylar will throw a fit if I look like a furry mess because of you.” She merely tilted her head in response and stared up at him with expectant, jade eyes.

“Okay, he said he’ll take us now if we’re ready to go,” Skylar strolled back into the room and Blaine didn’t miss the subtle hint of defeat adorning his features through the well placed smug smirk he’d adapted suddenly at the sight of Jasmine pining for Blaine’s continued attention. “Should just take her with us, I’m sure she’d love for you to show her some of your moves.”

Blaine smiled gently and wondered about pressing him for details on his half-hidden glum mood, but decided against it for now. “She’d be a hit, don’t you think?” Jasmine answered with a loud mew before rubbing her head against Blaine’s pant leg and collapsing onto his shoe. The two of them did nothing to suppress their laughter until Skylar’s father appeared in the doorway with a stoic expression.

“You boys ready?” he asked gruffly.

“Indeed, we are, Mr. Young,” Blaine offered a placid smile and, out of the corner of his eye, took note of Skylar’s unease. He was now even more overcome with the intense desire to know what exactly had taken place during their living room conversation to lead to Skylar’s distress. Mr. Young plucked his keys from the key rack by the back door and left them in the kitchen. Blaine took the opportunity to approach Skylar before they were meant to follow his father out to the car. “Everything okay? You seem… tense,” he placed a light hand on Skylar’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no I’m alright. Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” Skylar brushed past the question with a feigned smile that betrayed the obvious turmoil in his eyes. But Blaine knew better than to push him— if Skylar wanted to talk he would initiate the conversation— so he nodded politely and dropped his hand. Skylar gave Blaine’s bicep a few gentle pats, a reassuring gesture they often offered each other, and lead the way out to his father’s SUV. Blaine slid into the backseat while Skylar took the front passenger seat and immediately proceeded to fiddle with the radio. 

“Oh, wait go back! I love that song!” Blaine exclaimed while Skylar tapped the station seek button rapidly, very much like a certain character from a film about toys they both shared a guilty pleasure for. 

Skylar grinned and Blaine knew what the line was going to be before he even started, “Too late, I’m in the 40’s, gotta go around the horn!”

Blaine leaned forward and mock punched his arm playfully, paying no mind to the stiff posture Mr. Young had adapted ever since Blaine had gotten into the car. “Come on, seriously. Please go back?” he offered his best puppy dog eyes. Skylar rolled his eyes in response and hit the number three preset button. “Thank you,” Blaine replied in a singsong voice before joining in on the song.

“ _So get back, back, back to the disaster. My heart’s beating faster, holding on to feel the same,_ ” Blaine turned his attention to the window, drumming along on his thighs absently with his hands. The tension in the car remained the same for the duration of the ride to school and stayed well above Blaine’s head, as always. No matter how amiable he was to Mr. Young, the older man still had never warmed up to Blaine. Being the good-natured, naïve, boy that he was though, Blaine never took notice of his misgivings— his only sole concern was Skylar, impressing and befriending his father had never been part of his agenda. By the time they had finally pulled into the parking lot behind the school and gotten out of the car Skylar’s face looked ashy and he emitted tidal waves of anxiety.

“So you’ll pick us up at 11, dad?” Blaine watched cautiously and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow when he heard Skylar’s voice tremble.

“Yeah,” his father replied flatly before driving away without sparing them so much as a second glance.

“…okay, seriously, what did I miss?” Blaine blurted out dumbly and Skylar shook his head.

“I just want to have a good time, let’s forget about it until later, okay?” Skylar adjusted his boutonniere, fumbling with it until it was really more crooked than straight.

“Forget about what?” Blaine smiled politely, despite the crumbling brick wall imprisoning his burning questions, and straightened it for him.

“Thank you,” Skylar whispered and Blaine couldn’t be sure if he meant for adjusting the accessory, dropping the subject, or both. He nodded, nonetheless, and hooked his arm through Skylar’s to escort him through the doors. Without even entering the building the pair had six sets of eyes staring them down. Blaine kept his head high, apprehension already steadily building, and his attention on two things only: where he was walking and Skylar. His companion adapted the same contrived confidence as they made their way to the gymnasium. 

“Okay so far?” Blaine muttered out of the side of his mouth. When he hadn’t received an answer he turned his head slightly to find that Skylar appeared to be completely enamoured by the decorations. Blaine stifled a laugh, “You were on the decorating committee, bit egotistical to admire your work to the point of ignoring me, don’t you think?”

“Shut up! They didn’t look this good during the day,” Skylar pouted, “I have a right to feel proud. You know how hard I worked on this.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I haven’t forgotten how you ignored my presence for days so you could paint stars and mythical creatures,” Blaine feigned exasperation and Skylar continued to pout at him. “Alright, alright! How about I get us something to drink while you bask in your own greatness?”

“Pink lemonade if they have it, I—”

“Hate fruit punch, yes I know,” Blaine grinned and unhooked his arm from Skylar’s. “Will you be here or are you going to walk around?”

“I’ll wait for you here. Be prepared to have me drag you around all night and show off everything else in the room that I worked on that you haven’t seen yet,” a sly smirk flashed across his features and Blaine was relieved to see that he was already starting to loosen up and enjoy himself.

“Okay,” he replied with an overdramatic sigh tethered to the word. In truth he was pleasantly willing to let Skylar parade around the room and show off— nothing made Blaine happier than seeing the vehement fervor behind his friend’s words as he discussed his interests and hobbies. The passion in his eyes whenever the topic of painting and art came up was infectious and Blaine soaked up every second of it as often as possible. The decorations looked amazing and he knew Skylar should be, and was, rightly satisfied with the results. Blaine waltzed over to the refreshment table and contemplated the meager options presented: pretzels, Lay’s plain potato chips, fruit punch, (Skylar’s) pink lemonade, and bottles of water— not exactly a wide spread. He filled up two small, clear plastic cups with pink lemonade and quickly turned to rejoin Skylar. Unfortunately, in his haste, he walked straight into one of his, rather large, classmates and spilled both drinks.

Blaine tried to brush beads of lemonade off of his jacket sleeves, but he was completely soaked. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you— ”

“Watch where you’re fucking going next—” Blaine averted his attention from his sleeves to the stranger who narrowed his eyes and stared down at Blaine with unmistakable disdain, “Oh. It’s _you._ ” He chose to go a different route than Blaine and Skylar had, regarding outfit choice. While the two of them were dressed to the nines, an unkempt, hideous red plaid button down shirt, half tucked into his faded blue jeans, hung loosely on his boxy frame. He had a good twelve inches on Blaine, and at least sixty pounds. His mousy brown hair was slicked back with too little gel, leaving static strands jutting out in every direction. 

“Me…?” Blaine tore his eyes away and started to kneel down to retrieve the empty cups, “I don’t think we’ve met befo—”

“What the hell are you doing? Stay away from my—” the boy immediately proceeded to cover his crotch with both of his hands and jumped back, placing a few feet between them. Blaine suddenly understood.

“Seriously? Honey, why would you think I’d want _any_ part of that at all?” Blaine straightened up, placed a hand on his hip and stared at his classmate incredulously.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that either,” he reached both hands out and shoved Blaine forcefully. He tried to stay balanced but staggered backwards, right into the refreshment table. The glass bowls containing fruit punch and lemonade lurched violently, sloshing vibrant liquid onto the white, vinyl tablecloth. Blaine slammed his palms onto the table to steady himself, leaving himself completely open to another potential attack. 

“I wasn’t _looking_ at you like _that_ ,” he leaned back against the table, trying to put some more distance between himself and the other boy, but he might as well have been trying to reason with an angry bull. With the flared nostrils and red in this boy’s eyes, the comparison didn’t feel too far off. They had the attention of a few nearby students, but none of the teachers were anywhere in sight. Blaine had just enough time to duck under the table to avoid a full-body charge. The blood pounding in his ears made the cheers and jeers from the other students sound smothered— he had no idea which of them they were even rooting for or against. 

“Mr. Walker! What do you think you’re doing?” he heard a stern voice approaching and maintained his position under the table.

“I was—”

“About to destroy school property! I think your night is over. Come with me, we’re going to call your parents to pick you up,” Blaine listened carefully and watched two pairs of legs retreat before crawling out of his safe haven. His knees shook as he stood up, his hands sticky with spilt lemonade, but he didn’t hesitate in striding over to where he’d left Skylar.

“About time, I thought you got lost on the way back. Hey, where are the— Blaine, you’re shaking…”

Blaine turned his attention down to his trembling hands before quickly offering, “I sort of tripped and spilled them all over myself. I’m going to get cleaned up, okay?”

“Klutz,” Skylar shook his head as he spoke. “Okay, I’m going to head over to the bleachers, so meet me there?”

Blaine nodded curtly and sprinted out of the gym towards the bathroom across from the darkened cafeteria. He knew he should have said something to Skylar about the incident, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin his friend’s night when he was finally starting to have a little fun. 

_‘Besides, that kid is gone anyways. Just try to enjoy the rest of your night. Keep Skylar happy, it’ll be okay,’_ Blaine tried to rationalize with himself as he washed his hands, repeating the last line in his head as though it was a mantra. As clean as he could get his hands, there was nothing he could do about the tremors; the entire incident not only left him upset, but infuriated. It wasn’t fair; wasn’t he entitled to a stress-free, night of bliss as well? He clenched his hands, eyes shut tight, but his nerves continued to send earthquakes throughout his entire body. _‘I should have pushed him back, why the hell did I hide? Why the hell do I keep hiding?’_ The creak of the bathroom door to his left startled him and his eyes fluttered open to face the newcomer. He recognized the student, a classmate from third period English, and was greeted with a nod of acknowledgment before the boy disappeared into a stall. Blaine twisted the faucet shut and tore a rather large piece of paper towel away from the dispenser. His hands were finally starting to steady out, but the remnants of an adrenaline rush reminded him of his anger while his body resumed normal functions. He shook his head as he— literally— threw the dampened wad of paper with such force that it plastered itself to the wall with a wet _smack!_ before sliding down into the waste bin. Even his anger began to fade away while he walked back to the gymnasium— reduced to a low ebbing— so that by the time he reached Skylar again his smile was genuine and he felt hopeful about the remainder of their evening. 

“I got us some lemonade!” Skylar held out a cup to him with a broad grin and he took it with a grateful smile. “And I put a song request in.”

“What song might that be?” Blaine took a slow sip, pursing his lips when the much-too-sweet beverage overwhelmed his taste buds.

“It’s a surprise, you’ll know it when you hear it though,” and with that Skylar offered no other hints, leaving Blaine curious and, he couldn’t deny it, a little excited. Their taste in music was pretty similar, a pleasant discovery made during their early days of friendship, and they were always sharing new artists with each other. They’d also developed a knack for comforting each other through song choices, filling in the unspoken gaps of tense conversations with interludes of musical reassurances. As if saying to the other, _“I’m here, I know you don’t really want to talk about it, but here’s something I think will help you feel better.”_ Lately they had been on a Keane kick and chose every opportunity they could to serenade each other to “Somewhere Only We Know.” Aloud, they agreed on their appreciation for such a beautifully composed song and left it at that; internally though, the underlying promise of a place, of a life, so much better than the one they currently lived in— that was their real reason for clinging to the words and constantly offering them to each other. It voiced all of the desires they were too afraid to admit out loud, even to each other. Desires that they feared would be compromised— made unlucky— if they ever spoke about how much they yearned for a change. While Blaine figured it wasn’t much of a lively song for a school dance, he wouldn’t put it past Skylar to put in the request. After all, there were bound to be some slow songs, right?

 _‘Oh god, what if he wants to slow dance with me?’_ Blaine took another tentative sip— despite the nausea the sugary drink was causing him— to hide the tenseness in his jaw. He’d wanted to make a statement, show that if he wanted to come here with a boy, as an actual romantic date, that he should be able to— but dancing with one, actually shoving it in everyone’s faces… that felt like a step too far. Suddenly it wasn’t just the lemonade causing his stomach to rot; his anxiety was going to tear him apart from the inside out. Skylar hummed along to the current song, oblivious to Blaine’s rampant afflictions, and bobbed his head rhythmically. The song came to an end and Blaine bit the rim of his cup to keep himself from vomiting words and the contents of his stomach. For a few seconds the only thing that Blaine could hear was the chattering of students throughout the room, reverberating against the high windowpanes, but Skylar beamed, recognizing the song, his song choice, instantly by the lack of immediate guitar rhythms. At the first guitar downbeat Blaine returned the cup to his hand, his paranoia, his unease evaporating when Blink 182’s “Not Now” started up.

 _‘Of course, I should have seen that one coming. That’s all he’s been singing for days,’_ he felt silly for panicking at all, especially over something as silly as a potential song choice. He let out a breathy laugh, exuding the rest of his nerves, and set his very-much-still-full cup on one of the bleachers. 

“Time to dance now, let’s go!” Skylar exclaimed before brushing past him to the dance floor. He turned, already rocking his hips in a slightly more experienced but still very teenage-esque fashion, and Blaine sashayed over to join him. They kept their hands to themselves, dissolved into a world of their own— one which they dominated— and worked on showing off to each other, as they’d done countless times in Skylar’s bedroom. Blaine felt at ease finally. This dance was something they could conquer and live to tell the tale, again and again, come Monday morning. The reality of such a thought left Blaine dizzy, drunk off of the knowledge that they showed up together at a dance (at school), were actually _dancing_ at said dance (at _school_ ), within close proximity to each other, and actually having a fairly decent time ( _at school._ ) The little encounter at the refreshment table felt like a distant memory and the endorphins coursing through Blaine’s bloodstream offered him a moment of bravery. He reached out and took Skylar’s hands in his own, the twinkle in his friend’s eyes let Blaine know he was ready for the next move—the move they practiced a thousand different times to a thousand different songs on sunny days, rainy days, I-don’t-want-to-talk-so-let’s-just-dance-until-I-feel-better-days— and he wouldn’t let his fears stop him now. 

He pulled Skylar into the “sweetheart position,” twisting one of his companion’s arms, spinning him around and holding him close to his body before lifting his arm over Skylar’s head and pulling him around with his right hand. They spun together, untwisting their arms but still clasping each other’s hands tightly; Blaine released his right hand and spun Skylar around once, twice, three times more before the other boy collapsed into Blaine’s side, giggling wildly. While it wasn’t an appropriate song to put their swing dancing skills to the test, neither of them seemed to mind.

They were on top of the world, their world, without a single care— nothing, and no one, could possibly hurt them now.

* * *

**_Come here, please hold my hand for now_ **

**_Help me, I’m scared_ **

**_Please show me how to fight this_ **

**_God has a master plan_ **

**_And I guess_ **

**_I am in his demand_ **

The music had ended ten minutes ago and the gymnasium was now considerably much emptier than it had been four hours ago, but that didn’t stop the two of them from humming and dancing to their own melody. Blaine held Skylar’s hand in his own, above their heads, and spun him once as they exited the back doors to the parking lot. The smile plastered to Blaine’s face spoke volumes about the events of the night and Skylar’s mirrored his. 

“I’m really glad you convinced me to go,” Skylar unclasped his hand from Blaine’s and unbuttoned his blazer. The October wind wasn’t enough for them— they were both overheated, sweat glistening on their foreheads in the pale moonlight. “That’s the best time I’ve had in weeks.”

“Me too,” Blaine grazed the white rose on his lapel, miraculously still perfectly in place, with his thumb. “Hmm… were we supposed to go out to the front instead to be picked up? There’s no one here at all.”

Skylar gave the vacant parking lot a quick glance and frowned, “Huh, I guess we were. I figured they would have had everyone’s parents come back to the same spot they dropped us all off.” He shrugged, “Might as well just walk around the side now, it’s too stuffy inside.”

Blaine laughed in agreement, nodding his head. “After you, my dear,” he half bowed and extended his arms in an extravagant gesture. Skylar slapped Blaine’s bicep playfully and shook his head. “Such a gentleman you are, Blaine Anderson,” Skylar giggled as he passed by him.

“Well, you know me. I aim to please—”

“Where do you think you’re going, faggot?”

Blaine had been in very few fights growing up. They had mainly been schoolyard scraps in elementary school, but even ten year olds had the potential to be vicious. One fight in particular came to mind though. He couldn’t even remember how it had started— one minute he’d been waiting his turn in line for double dutch and the next he’d discovered all the air had left his lungs and a classmate’s fist buried deep into his stomach. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so dizzy and winded before… until now. This Walker kid’s words left him lightheaded and breathless, much like that punch he’d taken so many years ago.

“Skylar, run!” he managed to gasp out once the rest of his senses caught up to him. Skylar gave Blaine a look that said all that he couldn’t: _Like hell I’m going to leave you here alone._

**_Please save me, this time I cannot run_ **

**_And I’ll see you when this is done_ **

**_And now I have come to realize_ **

**_That you are the one who’s left behind_ **

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Walker snapped his fingers and two of his friends came to join him from the shadows beside the school. “You didn’t really think I was going to let you get away with screwing up my night, did you? You got me kicked out— why the fuck should you have been allowed to stay?”

“Blaine, what’s he talking about?” Skylar reached behind himself and gently closed his hand around Blaine’s wrist. It was a harmless gesture, more of a fearful reaction on Skylar’s part, but it seemed to brew thunderstorms in Walker’s eyes.

“He— there was an accident inside— I didn’t mean it, I walked into him and—” Blaine stammered pathetically, keeping his eyes fixed on the three boys before them. 

“Oh, was this your date? They let you disgusting things in together?” he spat angrily, his companions’ brows furrowing in equal disdain.

“So both of them then, Logan?” the boy to Walker’s— well, Logan’s— right asked, brandishing a tire iron from thin air.

 _‘Where the hell did that come from?’_ Blaine stared at the heavy object and his heart thumped a little harder against his ribcage. He knew they should run, knew that there was no good possible outcome from staying, but he was paralyzed. Skylar’s hand felt like an anchor on his wrist— neither of them knew what to do.

“Wait, wait, Logan wait. Think about this— you don’t want to— you could get expelled, things will just end up worse from here. You can walk away and—” Blaine knew it was useless trying to reason with him, with any of them. He could see the hatred rising off of them like smoke, blinding them from any sort of logical approach. There was only one way this was going to end.

“Both of them,” Logan growled menacingly and this seemed to do the trick in forcing Blaine into flight mode. He twisted his wrist until he was able to grasp Skylar’s and tugged on it, signaling him to run with him. They had barely been able to take two steps before the third attacker was there in front of him. Before Blaine knew what was happening he found himself on the ground, his hand trying to grasp at asphalt while the absence of Skylar’s wrist slowly sank in.

“No! Stop! S-Stop!”

Upon hearing Skylar’s screams, Blaine writhed on the pavement, trying to angle his head to find him. For the second time within the time span of five minutes, he found himself completely winded. But whatever had hit him felt nothing like human flesh—oh, no— they were putting that tire iron to good use. He curled into himself, trying to hug away the sharp pain in his stomach. He was aware of the sound of his own wheezy, rattling breath, taking in what felt like far too little oxygen, but couldn’t even begin to force himself to focus on anything else. His fetal position left everything else exposed though and he heard Logan’s—or someone’s— grunting, muddled with Skylar’s cries, before the tire iron made itself a new home and nestled itself into Blaine’s back.

**_Please stay until I’m gone_ **

**_I’m here hold on to me_ **

**_I’m right here_ **

**_Waiting_ **

He yelped loudly and had no real time to recover— whoever was hitting him grew more and more brutal by the second, giving him less and less time to catch his breath between beatings. He began to lose count of how many times he’d been hit; the only thing he knew for sure was that he had never been in so much agony before. His skin felt both numb and prickly. He couldn’t tell what was broken; he simply knew that at least one of his bones had to be. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his white rose boutonniere— inches away— covered in flecks of red. 

_‘Is that my blood?’_

All of his pain melded together, making it impossible to pinpoint where he was specifically injured. After seeing the rose though, he could actually feel the blood leaving his body in steady streams. His back was sticky; something dripped down his forehead and into his eyes; his fists were clenched, nails biting crescent moons into his palms; everything just _hurt_. He couldn’t hear Skylar anymore. The world around him was beginning to sound like a muffled cocktail of vicious grunts, breaking bones, and his own ragged breath.

_‘Help. God, someone, please help us.’_

“Hey, what are you guys doing over there!”

And then suddenly, it all stopped. All of the muffled yelling and metal colliding with skin.

_‘Who are you?’_

Metal clanged against pavement, just beside his head. The sound sent shockwaves through his brain, his poor throbbing brain.

_‘Is Skylar okay?’_

Footsteps retreated.

_‘Make sure Skylar’s okay.’_

And more footsteps approached.

_‘Goddamnit, fucking check on Skylar! Move! Move…’_

“Jesus… Can you hear me? Hey, kid, it’s going to be okay,”

_‘When did I close my eyes?’_

“Kid, can you hear me?”

He tried to speak, he really did. Tried to ask about Skylar, tried to ask who was there, but all that he could manage was a soft whine. It seemed to be all the affirmation that this stranger needed though.

“Yeah, he’s alive! What about the one by you, Jesse?”

Blaine descended into darkness before he could hear the answer.

**_I see a light, it feels good_ **

**_And I’ll come back soon just like you would_ **

**_It’s useless, my name has made the list_ **

**_And I wish_ **

**_I gave you one last kiss_ **


End file.
